


Coming Into The Closet

by thebasement_archivist



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-07-31
Updated: 1998-07-31
Packaged: 2018-11-20 08:47:34
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,470
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11332401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebasement_archivist/pseuds/thebasement_archivist
Summary: Set during Krycek's time at the Bureau.





	Coming Into The Closet

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

Coming Into The Closet by Kelly Adey

UST Challenge Entry:   
Coming Into The Closet  
by Kelly Adey, May 1997.

DISCLAIMER: Mulder, Krycek, and all other X-File personnel mentioned herein are, have always been, and will always be the property of Messrs Carter and Co, Ten-Thirteen and all that stuff. Chatham and Serena are mine, but hell, you want'em, go'head. Written for fun, not money, honey.  
CHRONOLOGY: set during Krycek's time at the Bureau.  
CONTENT: warning, rude alert, rude alert! -- definitely NC17. Explicit sexual activity, involving (gasp!) men. Anyone underage or offended by the idea of friction between two beautiful bodies of the same gender, stop reading now. I mean it. Oh yeah, and there's a bit of naughty language in there too. Sorry. Think on afore reading on, I allus say! Note to connoisseurs: this is my first attempt at anything like this, so I hope its... er... well... you know.  
Flames, comments, Certificates of Section under the Mental Health Act etc to: . I am obliged to state that the following in no way represents any formal or informal opinion of the ACCC. Even on a Friday.

* * *

Coming Into the Closet (part 1 of 3)

It was late, and getting later. Mulder stifled a yawn and looked around him at the end-of-case party, still in full swing. Not much had changed in the last half-hour. Skinner was chuckling politely at the local sheriff's jokes, the forensic Ice Queen Serena was wandering, increasingly unsteadily, between the wine cooler and a very proprietorial Agent Chatham, Krycek was listening animatedly to a discussion between two very drunk lab techs, and Mulder was nursing a beer, thinking about being anywhere else but here. He hated this sort of thing. If Scully had been here she'd have chided him about politeness, greasing the wheels... what Phoebe would have called 'all that eti-cobblers'. Which was all very well... but he couldn't help feeling there was something not entirely wholesome about spending social time with a bunch of overworked hard nuts whose conversation jumped habitually from My Kids, My Team to Ever Seen Somebody Killed With A Lawnmower?

He sighed. //Sure, we got them, sure, we deserve a break, but what about the hack work? Someone's gotta do it.// Better now than cramped over a laptop in some terminal or other. 'Specially not with the kind of hangover Chatham and co were going to have.

Yawning again, he straightened up, switched beers for a fresh one and turned to leave. As he picked up his jacket, Mulder caught Skinner's inquiring gaze and mimed typing. Skinner nodded -- at least he understood -- and Mulder headed for the door. Krycek, who by this time had muscled in on Chatham and Serena, caught his gaze as he passed and smirked. Mulder, despite a lingering annoyance at the younger man's ongoing allergy to paperwork, found himself grinning involuntarily at the tension in the group

 -- Serena was beaming everything she had at Alex and Chatham didn't like it one little bit. //Not exactly surprising//, he supposed... Krycek was certainly an attractive package. Well, compared to Chatham anyway. //Not that he'd ever thought about it, of course//.

Muttering 'G'night' to the techs, Mulder left with relief and headed on down the hall to the room they'd set aside for desk work. Closing the door behind him, he reflected briefly on the advantages of an anti-social reputation.

The room was dark, empty but for a number of cheap trestle-cum-conference tables, shoved hastily together to provide the elbow and paper room for half a dozen agents. One, piled high with paper, old cups -- everyone else's, of course -- and empty sunflower seed packets, was what he'd been calling home for the past week. He sank into the chair, switched on the Pentium and booted up a browser.

The case had involved a rather strange cult -- homicidal rather than suicidal, for a change -- the members of which had included a number of otherwise respectable businessmen and women in various computer-related fields. Most of these had had easy access to the Internet, and had used their company home pages to provide hidden links to information designed to draw in properly primed victims. Most of this had already been catalogued, downloaded and shut down for evidential purposes, but Mulder, after a quick chat to a friend in Vice, had discovered that one particular cultist had secretly been involved in the porn, and possibly drugs, trades. Given that the cult as a whole rejected all sexual images and activity as ungodly, this could provide the Bureau with quite an effective lever when it came to testimony time.

Always assuming Chatham didn't nick the disks, of course.

Mulder ran his eyes down the list of files and descriptions. AVIs, video excerpts, for the most part. Product promos. Some of this stuff was pretty harmless -- nothing you couldn't see on an everyday rental video -- but a significant proportion was... to say the least... exotic. Depended what you were into, he supposed. About fifty hetero clips, thirty-odd designed for the bi market, about the same number covering every fetish he'd ever heard of -- and a good few he hadn't -- and another sixty or so best summed up as European Hardcore. The remaining couple of dozen would probably be tame by comparison. Standard gay market. //Like you'd know.// Still, no point in not being thorough. He started to work his way through the files, one by one.

Half an hour of cataloguing later, his mind wandering, he was battling mild horniness -- //probably more to do with Serena's behaviour at the party than anything else,// he told himself, //when you've seen 60% of it before and done the other 40, it's all just so much demented jiggling// -- fading amusement and acute boredom when something nagged at his attention. Unable to identify the cause, he re-ran the clip he'd just closed, but could see nothing out of the ordinary. Two guys, bold lighting, no muzak... looked like an amateur video rather than an industry job. He ran it again, ignoring an odd and unwelcome stirring in his loins, sure something was unusual, something was odd... something... but unable to pinpoint the cause. 

What the hell was it? He set the clip to loop and leaned forward to study the naked, blurry bodies as they twined and caressed. //There -- no... maybe -- no...// The pair were obviously enjoying themselves, //very natural, very... genuine... I wonder...// he leaned closer still, hand on his thigh... //great hair... almost looks like... Holy fuck!... it couldn't be...//

'Don't tell me -- you're testing the video drivers, right?'

'Jesus Christ Almighty!' Mulder jerked back in his chair, heart pounding. 'What the fuck are you playing at!'

Krycek grinned, and leant back to shut the door. 'I could ask you the same question. You've had that running for five minutes at least.' He moved closer. 'Interesting choice... I had you down as the Anti-Gravity Blonde type myself.'

Mulder flushed hotly, suddenly uncomfortably aware of his quickened breathing and the acute pressure of an erection he hadn't allowed himself to notice getting. //Christ, talk about embarrassing.//

'Someone's gotta go through these, Krycek.' //What is the matter with you?

 Weak. Weak as. You idiot.// Still, he could always bluff his way through this, come down tough if he had to. Thank Christ it wasn't one of the others.

'Above and beyond the ball of duty, eh?'

'Very funny.' He ignored the open amusement on his partner's face. //Oh God, oh double fuck, he's noticed. He must have. Has he? Turn it off. It's not... you're tired, you're seeing things. Turn it off. But what if...// 'Look at this. There's something weird here. Something...er... I dunno, really. What do you think?' //Yeah, right. You idiot. Kick yourself now, Mulder, before your feet have to go home to Mouth, VA.//

'Don't tell me, the one on top's from Alpha Centauri.'

==========================

Krycek moved forward to stand by the desk, leaning forward to magnify the window. 'Looks pretty normal to me.' He whistled appreciatively as the clip re-started, focusing on an oversized and undoubtably excited appendage. 'Except for *that.* Wow. One of those and you'd be set for life.'

Mulder relaxed. This was territory he understood. Boy stuff, campfire humour. Nice, safe ground. 'Depends which end of it you're on, I suppose'. //Had me going for a minute there. Funny how you can joke about other people's dicks, but you can't look at'em.//

'Oh, I dunno... I don't see Leather Boy there complaining.' Krycek chuckled, his tone deeper than usual, as if he were laughing at some cherished private joke. 'You'd have to be used to it though.'

//Oh yes?// Mulder grinned, relaxing as the evidence of his unfortunate arousal ebbed away. //We'll deal with that later.// 'Enlighten me, O Dr Alex.'

Krycek looked back at him, a disarming intensity to his smile that Mulder hadn't noticed before. 'I can read, you know. And frequently do.' He held his gaze just a fraction of a second too long, his eyes unreadable under the shadow of his long lashes. 'I hit the Kinsey Report the minute I was allowed into the adult section of the library. Didn't you?'

'Of course. Unfortunately the instructions were all in Japanese.' He let his eyes wander back to the screen, then switched sharply back to Krycek. //That was it. Adult.// Take five or six years off... make the hair longer, shoulder-length, with the soft fuzz of a two-day growth... //Jesus.

Ten points and a banana, Spooky.// He'd been spot on. In the soft blue light of the monitor, the soft lines of his partner's face mirrored those of the young, dark-eyed and enthusiastic recipient on the screen. //It's the smile... how could I have missed the smile...//

'Fuck. How do you do th--... I mean how did... I mean...' //I didn't say that, I didn't say that. I can't have.//

His cock stirred again, more insistently this time. Confused, fighting a ridiculous impulse to blush, he thanked God for the darkness. He focused on the desk, the catalogue, anything but the sight of this younger, fuzzier Krycek writhing with pleasure under... then over... //God that is so sexy... the way they touch... the noi- That's him, it's really him. Think about something else.// Reaching out for his beer, he fumbled and felt his arm brush against denim. Hard denim. //Oh Christ.// 'Sorry... sorry'. //Shut up. Say something. Anything.//

He cleared his throat, and looked up, to find his partner watching him intently. Krycek's eyes flicked to his groin and back again, his expression unchanging but leaving Mulder in no doubt as to his awareness of the older man's state of arousal. He shifted forward, artlessly bringing his own, tightly outlined crotch into Mulder's peripheral vision. 'Come on, out with it. So to speak.'

Mulder took a deep breath, embarrassed as hell, like a kid caught sneaking though his parents' bedside table. //Too late now. What the hell...//'That's you, isn't it?'

'Yes.' Krycek paused, his amusement evident. 'Does that worry you?' He bent down, closer to Mulder. 'Or, more to the point, does it worry you that it doesn't worry me?'

Their faces were close, almost touching. Mulder felt an overwhelming surge of desire... to kiss the other man, an urgent flash of what it would feel like to touch tongues, to feel those hands on his chest and stomach and... he beat it back by sheer force of will. //What the fuck is happening to me//, he thought wildly. //Fifty-two boyball clips, not so much as a twitch, but now... it's him... it's something to do with him...//

'You want to know how it's done, do you?' Krycek, voice very low now, laughed and moved closer still, eyes flicking back to the computer screen, where his younger self was making somebody very happy indeed. Mulder followed his gaze, unable to concentrate on anything other than the heat of the other man's body, the feel of his breath on his neck and cheek, the slight scent of sweat and arousal that seemed to fill the room...

'Look, I...' His voice had disappeared, he was rock hard now, shaking, desperate to conceal it. //Oh God, don't let him touch me... please, he can't do this to me...// 'I might have wondered. I mean... everybody wonders, don't they?' //Shut up! just shut up.//

'It all depends on the foreplay, Mulder. Same as any other sex. Relaxation... lubrication... penetration...' He breathed lightly on the back of Mulder's ear, disturbing the fine, dark tendrils of his hair and sending an unbearable shiver down his partner's spine. 'Or do you want details?' He chuckled huskily. 'Tell me what you want.'

//I want you to touch me.// 'I want... I mean, I don't --'

'Say it, Mulder.'

//Fuck me hard, the way you're fucking him.// 'I--'

He gasped as Krycek ran a finger down his cheek, tracing his jawline, down his throat. 'Say it!' His head was forced back, as the hand cupped his chin in a warm, rough but gentle grip and the other stroked his fringe back from his eyes. 'Or do we have to do this the hard way?' He reached one hand down, stroking over Mulder's shoulders and chest, feeling him arch back as he found and teased a nipple through the thin cotton of his shirt. //Jesus he can read my mind...// 'I want... I want you to... Show me.'

Krycek grinned, then bent and kissed him, long and hard, open-mouthed. As their tongues touched and the younger man bit softly into Mulder's lower lip, Mulder moaned, a strange sound of fear and arousal that only intensified his need. As Mulder reached out to run his hands through Krycek's hair, to clasp this sudden stranger closer to him, Krycek laughed and pulled away, a gentle but stinging slap knocking Mulder back in his chair.

'Not so fast, Mulder. These things take time, if they're to be worth anything.' //And it will be.// 'I'm not convinced you're serious.'

Breathing hard, Mulder rubbed his cheek, angered, humiliated, excited. 'So what d --'

'So convince me.'

=======================

Krycek swivelled Mulder's chair round to face him. Seizing his partner's face between his hands, he kissed him again, roughly, then pulled his face hard against his crotch. Mulder, disoriented, stared dumbly at the denim bulge, breathing in the heat, lightheaded, lost. He was fighting an irrational urge to laugh -- //what do you want, Mulder -- a map? Phone Scully, she'd know what to do, she's a doctor// -- when a sudden, painful tug on his hair jolted him back to the moment. Operating purely on instinct, he began to nuzzle Krycek's genitals through the rough material, tracing the outlines of his hard, thick cock, sucking at the soft bulbs of flesh around the inseam, gently at first, then rougher in response to the pressure at the back of his head and Krycek's muffled, throaty gasps.

As the jeans grew wet under his tongue, and Krycek ground himself harder and harder against him, his own excitement rose and he slipped one hand around behind Krycek, stroking his arse, stroking and pulling the soaked material to chafe against his partner's balls, between the cleft of his buttocks, the other sliding between his own legs, massaging his aching cock in time with his desperate mouthings. Krycek's taut prick throbbed under his ministrations, pushing all other thoughts from his mind. As the other approached climax, he worked at it harder and faster, desperate to push him to the edge, to show him he could, to show him he wanted... and was pulled away sharply, gasping for breath, caught short by another hard and grinding kiss. He felt hands pulling urgently at his belt, his buttons, lifted his hip, dragging his zip down and his jeans down and his jocks down, the electric shock of cool air on his trembling thighs and rough nails across his lower back, lost to everything except the hot need to touch and be touched, *now.*

He tore blindly at the other's clothing, forcing Krycek's jeans down past his knees, down to the floor... he ached to see all of him, touch it all, the dark nipples, the smooth stomach, the line of soft dark curls leading to that strong and bobbing cock... Krycek made no move to stop him, pulling with equal force at Mulder's shirt and his own, flinging the latter across the room to land under somebody's desk, impatient with and abandoning the former, content to leave it open, off the shoulder, exposing the silky skin of Mulder's abdomen, freeing the sweat-slicked, hardened nipples for his provoking, hungry tongue. He pushed Mulder back in the chair, then dived for his aching penis, taking the head in his mouth, then the rest, working the shaft with one hand and his balls with the other. Mulder gasped in shock at the incredible warmth, the depth, the feel of Krycek's lips and teeth and tongue, sucking, stroking, could do nothing but moan as his hands caught in Krycek's hair, guiding him, urging him on... he shuddered hard, fighting to keep control, to prolong this wonderful, perfect torture... a losing battle, felt a knuckle lightly brush his anus as the shudder built and the heat built and the brush again and the pressure and the urge became too much and he pulled him closer and couldn't stop, wanted to stop //want to don't want to oh Christ oh fucking Christ Alex// and he shot hard again and again into that loving, punishing mouth...

Dazed and spent, throat raw, incoherent, heart thumping, he felt rather than saw Krycek release him and move back. //Oh God, was that all right? What have I done?// Embarrassed at his loss of control, he ventured to meet his partner's gaze, expecting censure or disgust or disappointment, but was met only by Krycek's trademark insolent grin.

'Oughta fit you with a muffler, Mulder. Last time I heard someone holler like that was in a come-as-you-are tattoo bar.' He chuckled wickedly, licking a trace of Mulder's come from his upper lip. 'Thought we were getting raided for a second there. No wonder they call you Spooky.'

Mulder blushed, then joined in with the laugh. 'I'm sorry.. I.. I mean, it never... I never...'

'Good, was it?' Krycek's grin faded, replaced by a look of pure hunger that sent a frisson of lust down Mulder's spine. 'You ain't seen nothin' yet. Turn round. Turn round!'

Mulder obeyed, suddenly aware of Krycek's ragged breathing, the extent of the younger man's arousal. From the corner of his eye he saw Krycek step out of his jeans completely, dick ramrod straight and bobbing as he bounded across the room and rifled through the top drawer of Serena's desk.

'Now sit down. No... leave it... and the jeans... that's right. Facing the backrest.' Mulder, straddling the chair as directed, felt suddenly vulnerable and very exposed. His jeans, stretched tight halfway down his thighs, were at uncomfortably immobilising, a fact which at once alarmed and aroused him. //I don't know if I can do this.// He turned to ask Krycek to stop, to wait, but he had already returned. He leant hard against Mulder, his now fully naked body searing him where it touched flesh. The younger man bit gently into his neck, then pressed something cold and pliant onto his penis, making it and Mulder jump. Krycek traced a line gently upwards, meandering through his damp pubic hair, drawing lazy spirals up his chest, then held the objects out for him to see.

'Yoghurt,' he said mischievously, 'and condoms. Never travels without'em, lucky for us. And Chatham, come to that. *Vive la feminisme*, I say.'

He stopped, noticing the apprehension in Mulder's face. 'What's the matter? Allergic to "diet"?'

Mulder took a deep breath. 'Krycek...' //What to say, how to explain?//

Krycek reached out and took hold of his chin, gently, turning him to look full into his eyes.

'It's OK, Mulder. I understand. We'll take it easy, I promise.' He smiled, warmly, almost tenderly. 'I'm not interested in hurting you, there's any number of things you can -- and I'd hope you *would* -- do for me instead, if you want. But I'm not going to stop unless you tell me to, loud and clear.' His eyes searched Mulder's face, recognising the uncertainty, the curiosity and the need. 'You asked for this, you wanted this. Remember that.'

Mulder nodded tightly. //Like I'm going to forget! //

'OK. Just relax. Relax.' He leant back, dropping the yoghurt and the condoms onto his discarded jeans. Straddling the chair, his cock nestled hard against the cleft of Mulder's arse, he began to stroke his partner's neck and shoulders in a rhythmic, soothing manner, feeling the older man gradually untense, noting with a smile the speed at which Mulder's cock stirred in response. He began to move slowly down his body, fingers circling each knob of vertebrae, tracing each rib, the hollows under the hips, down to those wonderfully thick, silky curls. He deliberately avoided Mulder's re-emerging erection, teasing him, concentrating on the tendons and the inner thighs, tickling him into arousal, making him jump with an occasional brush of the back of a knuckle across the swollen and throbbing glans. Slowly, he moved backwards off the chair, kissing and nibbling his way down Mulder's back, steeling himself to ignore his own, growing, painful need for release.

Mulder, lost in sensation, had barely noticed Krycek changing position, and so readily complied when he felt his partner's hands slide around under his thighs and tug gently, raising himself an inch or so off the chair. //Emergency, red alert, battle stations//, said one part of his mind, as Krycek's hands moved to his buttocks, gently separating them, stroking up and down and up and --, //Defcon Four, you idiot, what the fuck do you think you're doing//, while another, somehow stronger part screamed *Yes* and *yes* and *yes* again. He bit his lip and moaned as the long, strong fingers returned, covered in something shockingly cold, thick and wet, tracing the sensitive skin around his anus, sliding backwards and forwards, disappearing again, returning wetter, more insistent, probing and teasing and finally sliding gently inside, just a little, almost too quick to notice, then back again, and away for a beat... and another... //Oh you bastard don't stop// and replaced by a hot, wet tongue, flexing and teasing and inside and //God why don't they tell you it'll be like this,// with the rough material of the chair pressing hard into his thighs and his legs shaking from the strain and the tongue and fingers working together now, deeper and wetter and sliding across his //Jesus! G-man's got a G-spot//and faster, harder, the world full of breathing and sweat and wild moans, a hand on his cock another on his balls and whose hands whose groans were which wasn't important and a shift behind him, an aching moment of emptiness, then the thick head of Krycek's cock, slick, throbbing, pushing hard against him and //oh yes I want this, do you hear me, I want this so much// and it was nearly there, nearly in and --

'...so the Microsoft engineer goes, 'lets all get out of the car and get back in again. Hahah... Whoop -- mind that step, babe.' //Jesus!//Raucous, drunken laughter, a crash, very loud, very close. Murmurs, then a stifled giggle, footsteps stopping... shadows on the door... Mulder, startled into immobility, watched uncomprehendingly as Krycek scrambled out and away from him.

'Fuck! it's Chatham and the Ice Queen. Come on!' Krycek lunged for his clothes, Mulder scrambling after him, trying desperately to adjust to the real world, to pick up the condoms and the shoes and looking for somewhere to go, somewhere to hide, or maybe just sit and look normal, that's it, act normal //who are you kidding Mulder, there's one, read my lips, ONE fucking exit, he's fucking naked and I'm up to my come-soaked balls in yoghurt. Nice one dude. Say hi to Mr. Unemployment for me.//

The door was beginning to open. Krycek was nowhere to be seen. //Oh well, I can always eke out the days swapping sex tips with Frohike.// Mulder took a step back, then recoiled as he felt a harsh slap across his calf. 'What the --'

'In here, idiot!' Krycek hissed, pulling at Mulder's leg. He was leaning half out of a low cupboard, squashed between a desk and an absolutely hideous rubber plant. 'Quick!' He disappeared back into the dark, and Mulder dived in after him, tripping over his jeans and fumbling the door shut just as the drunken pair tumbled into the room, giggling, all over each other.

'Ow!' //Thanks for telling me about the shelf, Krycek. Didn't need that eye anyway.//

'Shut up. They'll hear you. What are they doing?'

'How the fuck would I know?' His vision slowly adjusted to the darkness of the cupboard and as the adrenaline of the dash to concealment wore off, he became aware of just how ridiculous they would look to an observer. Kneeling awkwardly, bare to the waist and beyond, sticky and wet, squashed

hard against an equally cramped and shivering Krycek. //Dear Scully, have I got a postcard for you.// The pair outside had gone awfully quiet. Had they gone? He peered out of the thin crack between the cupboard doors, and fell back, bursting with suppressed laughter.

'Well?'

'N-nothing.'

Slap. 'What?'

'They're.. um.. well...' It was no good, he had the giggles for real now.

Slap again, a jolt of pleasure searing through him. //I am one sick puppy today.//

'Mulder...!'

'Erm... let's just say I can see why yoghurt's overtaken bagel chips in the impulse snack food market.'

'Oh Jesus, you're kidding.'

'Nope. Can't you hear'em?'

They had certainly upped the volume in the last minute or so. Serena, quite happily impaled on a combination of Chatham and dairy product, was outdoing the soundtrack of the still-running AVI clip, emanating from behind Mulder's '2001' screensaver, while her partner was demonstrating the stamina that had won him the East Boston Scuba Championships five years in a row. Mulder backed away from the door, reflecting that there were some things that man definitely wasn't meant to see.

Krycek pressed closer behind him, shivering. 'So what do we do now, partner?'

'Dunno. Wait till they've finished, I suppose. Provided he doesn't pass out on the job, we should be able to sneak out in ooh, two or three hours.'

'Two or three...? Christ. In this temperature? With *that* going on?' Krycek swore, forcefully, in Russian.

'Ooooh -- *someone* forgot to bring the Travel Scrabble.'

'...and the horse you rode in on. What're we going to *do?*'

Mulder turned, eyebrow raised, a mischievous grin playing round the corners of his mouth.

'What?'

'You still got that yoghurt?'

THE END  
===================


End file.
